


All You Have to Do is Ask

by Ennaejj



Series: The End is Everything [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5x04, Angst, Blasphemy, Bottom!Cas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, End!verse, Episode Tag, First Time, High!Cas, M/M, Missing Scene, The End, future!cas - Freeform, s05ep04, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4706006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ennaejj/pseuds/Ennaejj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What?  I like past-you."</p><p>Missing scene from "The End."  Cas is broken, and Dean is determined to find out why.  It's angst and smut all the way down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You Have to Do is Ask

After escaping the shed where his future-self had left him, Dean knew all he needed was Cas. If he could find Cas he could get back to his own time and away from the nightmare-inducing future.

Dean was surprised to run into Chuck, and immediately felt guilty for being surprised. This goddamed Croatoan-encrusted world seemed too harsh for him, for a writer. Though he looked scuffed up and hardened, it was still easy to see the pliant, troubled prophet beneath. He didn't belong here. But, then again, did anyone?

"Is Cas still around?" Dean asked hopefully.

The way Chuck answered--with a sly, dirty edge--should have given him pause. "I don't think Cas is going anywhere."

Later, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when he pulled aside the beaded curtain, but it definitely wasn't what he found. Inside, Cas--a very sloppy, unshaven, hair-messed-up-but-not-in-the-usual-way Cas--was intoning something about dragonflies and metaphysics to a group of women. The lecture registered as _blah blah blah_ in Dean's brain until Cas's gravelly voice rolled out the word _orgy_ like it was the natural end to any discussion.

 _Er, what_? Dean couldn't control the lift of his eyebrows. _Probably just heard wrong. Yeah. Must have_.

But then Cas was staring up at the women with a dazed expression, and Dean's breath caught in his throat. Something was wrong with Castiel. "What are you, a hippie?" he spat as the last woman passed him on her way out.

Cas turned his back on Dean, stretching his thin arms behind him as he rolled his head an popped his neck. "I thought you'd gotten over trying to label me."

 _What is happening_? Dean racked his brain, trying to come up with some logical connection between the Cas he was seeing and the Cas he knew. The Cas before him looked pallid and thin, but lithe. He'd lost the stiffness Dean was so used to, but also the bright flush. Though Castiel had always seemed somewhat Robo-Cop in his demeanor, there'd always been a spark of aliveness to him--a crackling fire below the surface that Dean held onto when his own strength faltered. This Cas, though... the fire had grown cold, if not been extinguished all together.

"Strange," Cas said, whirling. "You are not you. Not now you, anyway."

 _Thank god_. "No." He quickly explained. "Now strap on your angel wings and fly me back to--"

The smile that spread across Castiel's face was sickening and heartbreaking. Dean had never seen a full-toothed smile on the angel before, though he'd ribbed him often enough hoping to coax one forth. This, however, was not the smile he'd been looking for.

"I wish I could, uh, just strap on my wings," Cas giggled. "But, I'm sorry, no dice."

 _You've got be fudging kidding me_. "What are you, stoned?"

Cas shook off his amusement. A bitterness invaded his tone, and the look he leveled at Dean made the other man go cold. "Generally, yeah."

 _Son of a bitch_. What had he missed? What could have happened to this man--to this creature--who used to make him feel both small and all-important? Where was the angel who had shaken him to his core when he'd said, "You should show me some respect"? Where was the angel who'd made him laugh at his clumsy attempts to get to first base with a woman? Where was the angel who had rebuilt him from the ground up?

Where was his Castiel?

"What happened to you?"

Cas's eyebrows raised, as though it should be obvious. "Life," he said, but it was clear that wasn't the first word that had popped into his mind.

Later, after he'd gotten verbally bitch-slapped by his future self, Dean found himself at a pow-wow with Grummpy-Old-Man-Dean and his top peeps. Reesa and Cas had both earned themselves tidy little invites. Future-Dean put all his proverbial cards on the table: Colt, check. Suicide plan, check.  

During the run-down, Past-Dean did Future-Dean a favor by pointing out how much of a man-whore he still was. Future-Dean didn't appreciate it as much as Past-Dean thought he should.

Since turn-about is fair play, Past-Dean didn't appreciate the fact that Future-Dean was still torturing people as much as Future-Dean thought he should.

"Classy," Dean said, never one to use pure venom where sarcasm would do.

Cas laughed, his smile broad and genuine--not at all like the smile Dean had seen earlier--and Future-Dean leveled a glare at Cas that Past-Dean couldn't quite read. It was annoyed, and possessive. If Dean didn't know better--if he'd seen it on another man--he might have called it jealous.

"What?" Castiel asked, his smile never faltering. "I like past-you."

Future-Dean threw a map on the table, squashing the moment quickly, but Past-Dean's mind still toyed with it. Why did this feel so awkward?

Cas proceeded to make fun of Future-Dean's plan, but when asked if he was coming, he replied with an immediate, if resigned, "Of course." He then agreed to everything else Future-Dean said with unwavering loyalty, as though he'd gotten tired of protesting. "We'll get the grunts moving," he said at last, leaving his seat and making for the door as though the weight of centuries hung on his now-too-weak shoulders.

When they were alone, Future-Dean spilled his guts. He goddamed told the truth for once. Dean tried not to vomit as his future-self threw his words--words he'd spoken less than 24 hours ago in another time, another life--back at him, "Lucifer's wearing Sam to the prom."

Desperation filled the older man's eyes as he began to plead, "I'm begging you. Say yes. Say yes to Michael."

"Why don't _you_?"

"I've screamed _yes_ until I was blue in the face," he yelled. "But you won't, because that's just not us, is it?" Anger and hopelessness deepened the lines on his face. Quickly, he threw his shit back in its duffle, prepping to leave Past-Dean alone with his thoughts until the mission commenced. Just before he left, with one foot out the door, he turned back around and spat, "You know he'll let you fuck him, right?"

Dean was so caught off guard by the question, his mind went blank. "What? Who?"

Future-Dean swallowed harshly. "Cas. He'll let you fuck him. All you have to do is ask."

 _Why would I want to...? Why would you say that to me? What the hell? That's just sick_ \-- A myriad of retorts swam through his mind like salmon in a stream, but he found himself asking, "Your Cas, or mine?"

Future-Dean's face hardened. "You have 'til midnight. You know where to find him." The door slammed with a resounding _thunk_.

A cold pit formed in Dean's abdomen. This was insane. He had not just said that to himself--any of it. _This is insane_ , he repeated.

Dean's feet moved without his permission, and his limbs ached with the need to track Cas down ASAP. Cas would set him straight, tell him how Future-him had become a twisted dick with a sick sense of humor. In an instant he was out the door and into the cool night air, tromping over the hard ground to the bead-curtained cabin. A lump formed in his throat as he mounted the stairs, the beginnings of questions and demands flicking in and out of his mind.

_Tell me it’s a joke. Dean-Plus-Five just gets his jollies by being warped, right? He didn't mean you'd--? You and him haven't--? I--?_

His stomach turned over as he rapped lightly on the jamb. "Cas?"

The angel stood over the bed, shoving something into a rucksack. He smiled when he realized it was Past-Dean at his door. "Come in."

Dean stepped through the beads, but didn't say anything right away. He didn't know how. He was still trying to process what he'd said to himself. Trying to process why he'd said it so... _crassly_. Why there'd been a craven bite to the words. Hell, why Future-Dean had said it the same way Past-Dean would say, "Someone took the last piece of pie."

"Something wrong, Dean?" Cas said quietly, focused on his work.

"I...Other me. He said something after you left." Dean swallowed and took a breath. "What happened to you, Cas? What _really_ happened?"

Cas turned with a shit-eating grin on his face. A grin that didn't reach his eyes. "You did." He rubbed a hand over his stubble, his head cocking to the side with an amused dip of his chin. "The Righteous Man happened to me."

Dean didn't know what to say. He felt his lips part, but no sound escaped, not for a long moment. " _What_ did I do?" he asked slowly.

"You gave me everything," Cas said, sniffing dryly. He wouldn't meet Dean's gaze, choosing instead to address a splinter in the floor. After a time, he rolled his tongue in his mouth. "You gave me everything, then took it all away."

"Cas..." Dean's voice trembled. "Be more specific, man. None of this puzzle-box crap."

When he looked up, Cas's eyes were red-rimmed and watery. "I'm not blitzed enough for this," he said frankly, moving to where a bottle of green liquid sat in the windowsill. Before Dean could intervene, he took a long swig. The peeling gold label on the bottle deemed its contents Absinth.

"Come on man, stop with the booze and the drugs, just talk to me."

"What did Dean say to you?" Cas demanded.

Dean pressed his lips together. Heat rose in his neck and cheeks. He wasn't sure if he could actually repeat it. "He said--" Dean let out a breathy, nervous laugh. "He said I could fuck you. That all I had to do was ask."

"Ah," Cas said simply, smiling that fake, broken smile. "Yeah, I'm kind of the camp fuck toy."

Ice filled Dean's limbs. "You're what?"

"You heard me," Cas said defiantly.

Dean palmed at his mouth. He was going to be sick, he was sure. At the same time, he felt empty, like a black hole had devoured his insides. He shook his head. _No, no, that wasn't... Cas couldn't... This isn't Castiel_.

Noting the distress in Dean's eyes, Cas took pity on him. "Dean, it's alright." Placing the bottle back on the sill, he strode over to Dean, holding out one hand.

Dean took hurried steps in reverse until he ran firmly into the wall. "No. This is not ok, Cas. Nothing is freaking ok, man." When Castiel recoiled, an injured look in his eyes, Dean tore inside. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did to you, _I'm sorry_."

Cas bit his lip. " _You_ haven't done it yet. You won't do it until after Sam's yes."

"What is it? Tell me so I can _not_ do it. I don't want to be the thing that breaks you, that breaks a..." How do you break an angel like this?

Cas moved forward again, closing the space between them. Conversations they'd had about personal space flashed through Dean's mind, but he said nothing. "I'm not sure I want you to undo this part, Dean."

"Don't say that--"

Cas suppressed an affectionate smile, pursing his lips. "Shh, Dean. After Sam said yes, you gave me something I'd been--something I'd secretly longed for, but knew I could never ask of you. I'd asked too much already. Keep asking too much."

Dean searched Cas's eyes, looking for the gem of real info--the tidbit Cas kept tripping around.

Cas's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "You--my charge, the Righteous Man, the Michael Sword--you asked me to touch you. Not just to heal you, or to make the pain go away. You didn't ask me to make you numb. You asked me to make you feel _good_." Cas's gaze dropped to Dean's mouth. "And I wanted to make you feel good, Dean. I ached to make you feel good." His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips. "I still want to make you feel good."

Where had all the air gone? Dean couldn't catch a lungful. Cas was so close--he could feel his breath on his face, could see the dark flecks in his bright blue eyes. And his words--god, every deep, gravel-filled syllable made his spine tingle. "Cas," he whispered, unsure if he was trying to ask him something, or warn him, or simply saying his name for the taste of it on his tongue.

"Ask me, Dean," Cas begged. "Ask me to make you feel good. You haven't touched me in so long."

"Cas--"

"Please."

Before his reasonable half could intervene, Dean let his heart take charge. He cupped Cas's jaw and surged forward, placing a firm, yet chaste kiss on the angel's lips. When he pulled back, the expression on Castiel's face was pure bliss.

"Please," Cas breathed again. "Please, Dean."

Dean pushed against Cas, making him walk in reverse. With one hand on Cas's lower back, Dean maneuvered him to the bed. When his calves hit the side, Cas sat, but fisted the front of Dean's shirt, refusing to let go. "Say it, Dean."

The ache in Castiel's voice made everything inside Dean come undone. "I want you to be happy, Cas."

"Then say it. Pray to me like I remember. Pray to me and ask for it."

Dean bent down, placing his hands on the mattress either side of Cas, making the other man lean back. It brought their mouths within a hair's breadth of one another. "Castiel," he whispered against Cas's mouth. "My friend, Castiel. Please hear me. I want..." the need of it nearly choked him. He gulped and tried again. "I want you to touch me. Make me feel so good, Cas. Make me forget where I am. Make me forget my own name."

Cas's hands came up to tangle in the hair at the nape of Dean's neck as he forged forward, desperately taking what he couldn't ask for--what he had to be asked to give. Their mouths moved together hungrily, tongues flicking out occasionally to search for one another. The rough feel of Castiel's stubble against his jaw made Dean moan.

Slowly, Dean continued forward, making Cas lean back all the way until he was laid out on the bed. The angle brought their hips together, and Dean gasped when he felt Cas's erection slip alongside his.

It jolted Dean back into reality. This was not a dream, this was not a fantasy. This was really Castiel under him. Poor, fragmented, disheveled, needy Castiel. He pulled away suddenly, a small voice inside him yelling, _No, no, no, you can't take advantage of him like this. You can't do this to him. You broke him, you motherfucker_.

Cas's hands were still around his neck, and wouldn't let him go. "Don't stop," he ordered.

"I don't deserve--"

"You think you don't deserve to be saved?" Cas asked, a reminder of the old days.

"I don't deserve... _you_."

Cas's expression melted into a hodge-podge of fondness and pain. "You-- _Past_ -you--deserves all I can give him."

"But... What did Future-me do? How did I hurt you?"

Lips twisting, Cas looked away briefly. When he looked back, determination clouded his eyes. "Shut up and let me have this."

Then his tongue was back in Dean's mouth. His hands traveled down to Dean's clothes, finding buttons and buckles and undoing as many of them as he could reach.

Dean was hesitant, his mind told him this wasn't right, that he'd only make things worse for Cas. But his body and his heart had different ideas. _You could never touch your Cas this way_ , he told himself. _And say you go back and change things, then this never happened anyway. It'll just be a memory of a neverwas. A good memory mixed in with all the miles and miles of crap this place has thrown at you_.

They were both half-naked in no time, bare chests sliding against one another. Cas's hands were strong and hot, despite how drained he looked. Dean could easily imagine them leaving palm prints, just like the first time. More angel touches seared into his flesh.

Cas's tongue found his anti-possession tattoo and laved at it. Likewise, Dean's mouth descended on Castiel's shoulder, biting down as he began grinding his hips against the other man's. They both cried out, arching back and straining in their jeans.

Dean dipped down to kiss Cas again. "I want all of you," he said. "To--to be inside you. Is that ok?"

"Of course," Cas said, consenting to him with far more fervor than he'd consented to Future-Dean earlier.

Dean unbuttoned Cas's pants and wrenched them down his legs, leaving the angel completely naked. "Commando, Cas?" Dean laughed. "You kinky son of a bitch."

"You've got no idea," Cas laughed. "No need to prep me, either."

"What?" As Dean took him in, gaze grazing down his body--across his pale chest, to his flat stomach, to his hard and leaking cock laying heavy against his abdomen--he eventually noticed the black anal plug.

Castiel barely bit back a shameful, drug-addled giggle, and Dean stilled. "I wasn't kidding," Cas said. "About being the camp--"

"So, what, you're just always ready?"

Cas nodded. "Lubed and ready to go."

Dean set his jaw, teeth grinding together. "Why?"

A little, half-hearted shrug was given. "I don't heal like I used to."

"You mean, like, in case some drunk asshole wanders in here looking for a good time and doesn't bother to..." Dean couldn't finish the sentence.

"Yeah," Cas said sadly, trying to maintain his smile. "Something like that."

Dean turned away, throwing is hands behind his head, looking for something to hold onto. "God, what is wrong with this fucking future?" His erection flagged. How could he ever get to a place where he let this kind of thing happen to Castiel? What the fuck was Future-him doing while some freaking grunt rutted up against Cas?

"Dean," Cas said quietly, reaching out for him. "Come back to me."

There was no denying him. Dean hurried back, laying a series of gentile kisses across his chin and temple. "Fucking soldiers," Dean spat. "Promise me, Cas, that after this, it's no one but me. Just me."

Dean realized immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. Cas's face went a strained sort of blank--he struggled to keep his expression as neutral as possible. "But, Zachariah will take you back. And when the time comes, I'll...I'll be alone again."

"I'm right there, Cas," he said roughly, gesturing past the beaded curtain. He remembered for the first time that there was no real door on the cabin. Lowering his voice, he continued. "I'm right fucking there. What happened?"

"I wasn't enough for you, ok?" he said petulantly. "I wanted to--to love you, Dean. Real fucking human love, but you--" he cut himself off as tears welled in his eyes. He tried to smile through it. "I _fell_ for you, truly. But I wasn't enough. With Sam gone, no one is enough. Sam broke you and then you broke me, and we're all fucked and broken together."

He pulled Dean against him, smashing their lips against one another, brutally punishing him with a violent kiss. Swiftly, he rolled them over, pinning Dean to the bed. "That's why we're going to kill Lucifer, if it kills us all. Because, sometimes, I think it already has." He ran his hands down Dean's torso, looking for something extraordinary in the touch, trying to pull something good out of this messed up situation.

The head of his cock twitched against Dean's abs, leaving a cool smear of precum. It took all of Dean's willpower not to run his fingers through the smudge and bring them to his lips. God, to taste Castiel... But there were things he had to know first, he couldn't just give in.

"Why do you still follow me if I became what I became?" Dean demanded, holding Cas at bay when he tried to capture his mouth again.

"You're still my charge," he said softly, happily.

His movements were slow and languid, and his eyes were dark and well-focused. But the dazed smile on his lips had a serious quirk to it--the expression was half High-Future-Cas and half Protector-Past-Cas.

"I'm still gripping you tight," he whispered. With one hand, Cas pulled at Dean's zipper. With the other, he removed the plug. "Still gripping you tight," he repeated as he pulled Dean's half-hard cock from its confines. "I'll never stop trying to get you through perdition. I can't stop." He stroked Dean deftly, and Dean closed his eyes, allowing the pleasure to flood through him--accepting Castiel's reverential touch. "I can't stop, Dean."

And that's when Dean knew, whenever Cas said his name--whenever he whispered it back in his own time, back in 2009--it was as though _the angel_ was praying.

Dean might pray to Castiel whenever he felt weak, but Castiel _worshiped_ Dean. Always.

Castiel shifted above him, straddling his hips and guiding his cock. Dean had time for one more quiet, "Castiel," before he was enveloped fully in slick heat.

Dean's hands grasped at Cas's thighs, holding him steady. Cas leaned over Dean, pressing their foreheads together as he moved, grinding down against Dean's pelvis with Dean's full length inside him.

"You feel so good, Cas," Dean moaned. So much heat and softness inside, contradicting the hard planes of his broad shoulders and tight muscles. God, if he could just spend eternity like this...

"Missed you inside me," Cas keened in return. "Now, fuck me," he ordered.

Biting his lip, Dean shifted his hands so he could lift Castiel. Cas wasn't a small man, by any means, but he was small _er_. He pushed off lightly, and Dean brought him slamming back down. They gasped in unison as Dean bottomed out, hitting a spot deep inside Cas that made the angel shiver.

"Again," Cas demanded.

And again they did. And again and again and again. Dean felt like he was going mad with so much sliding and slamming. He _did_ forget where he was. But he didn't forget his name. How could he, with Cas whispering it to him over and over again?

He reached up to curl one hand around Cas's erection, but Cas wasn't having any of it. "Keep fucking me," he commanded, taking his cock in hand. As he rode Dean, he stroked himself, letting his eyes flutter closed.

"So good, Cas, so fucking good."

Maybe it was the sound of his voice just then, or the pure praise inherent in the words--either way, Cas tensed, his whole body shuddered, and he let out a roar as hot come streamed out over Dean's chest and stomach.

The angel's orgasm made Dean's insides coil. As Castiel clamped down around him, he let out his own yell and his balls drew up and he came hard in his angel. While hot streams pulsed out of his cock, Dean dipped his fingers into his own navel, coating the tips in Cas's essence. With a satisfied moan, he popped them into his mouth. Cas tasted amazing--bitter and sweet and so heady. It made his eyes roll back and his cock feel over sensitized.

As he spiraled down from the high, Dean wondered how he could have ever let this go. How could Castiel not be enough? Castiel was everything.

But, then again, Past-Dean--fuck it, why did he keep calling himself that? He was fucking Current-Dean. _The_ Dean--Dean still had Sam. He'd gone crazy, gone to Hell, the first time he'd lost Sam. Who knew what he'd turn into if Satan looked back at him with his little brother's eyes?

Cas slumped over, going boneless as he slipped off of Dean's cock. "Could you--?" he asked tentatively, pointing at the end table where he'd set the plug.

"You don't want to wash first?"

"Ha," Cas laughed. "No. As you said, I'm a, what was it? Kinky son of a bitch."

Dean retrieved the plug. As he reinserted it--careful to keep as much come inside Cas as possible--he gripped Cas's face with his free hand and kissed him hard.

"I'm a bastard for letting you go," he said.

"Yes, I think so," Cas agreed. "We should dress. It's almost midnight."

They readied themselves in silence. Dean's heart dropped when he saw Cas reach for the bottle again, taking three long pulls. He knew being with Cas once wouldn't change anything, but still. A boy could dream, right?

"Alright," Cas said gruffly, stretching as he had earlier that day. "Let's get this show on the road."

As they stepped out of the cabin, Dean caught sight of Future-Dean leaning against a nearby tree. Cas saw him too and simply gave a gruff nod, eyes lowered obediently, before moving toward the waiting line of rigs.

When Cas was out of earshot, Dean barreled towards himself. "I should murder you for what you did to him," he said quietly.

"You'd only be hurting yourself," Future-Dean quipped.

"Is this all still going to happen? Do you remember this? Was this your first time with Cas?"

"It's not going to happen. You are going to go back and change things. You are going to keep Sam the hell away from Lucifer by saying yes to Michael so that you never lay a goddamned finger on that angel."

"Why did you do that to him, really? Between you and me, why are you such a dick?"

Future-Dean's eyes were hot and watery. He lashed out and fisted Dean's collar. "Picture him without the drugs. As he was. Picture _your_ Cas looking up at you with utter adoration. Pure, unadulterated devotion after you've just come all over his angelic face. Tell me you wouldn't run. That you wouldn't try to push that admiration back in its box. Because it's not ours. Castiel should never have given it to us. Cas had to learn that he didn't love us, because we don't deserve--"

Dean let out a mirthless, guttural laugh. "You sorry son of a bitch." Dean's entire body vibrated with anger. "His love isn't about you. It's about him. He gets to give it to whoever he wants. But you're right. If he gave us everything and we ran..." He wrenched himself out of Future-Dean's grip. "We don't deserve it." Turning, he headed towards the cars.

"You had him. Now stay away," Future-Dean called.

"Not a chance," Dean said under his breath. He would stand by Castiel for as long as he could. Until the end.

                                                             

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to those waiting on an update of "What Rory Knew." This popped into my head and I had to get it out.


End file.
